


A Collection of Kink Shorts

by JollyRogue



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Drunk Sex, Gangbang (For Queen and Country), M/M, Rimming, Sex Advice from Goodsir
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-05-29 20:30:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15081128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JollyRogue/pseuds/JollyRogue
Summary: This is my brain on smut, inspired by a list of prompts I found on the net. Abandon all hope ye who enter here.





	1. Crozier/Jopson - "Would you just hold still?”

**Crozier/Jopson**

**Prompt: "Would you just hold still?”**

 

 

Francis Crozier let his fingertips trail over my neck and chest. "I love you, Thomas."

 

"And I love you, Captain", I uttered breathlessly, hugging him, feeling his heartbeat, enjoying the feeling of his warm, solid hairy body against mine. "I love you, I love you so much, I... I –!" I felt a sudden desire to pull him down onto me, to have him yet _again_ , as though no amount of lovemaking could ever be enough to express how much I wanted him.

 

"Lean onto the table", he whispered.

 

I looked at him wide-eyed. Was he– did he … _could_ he possibly –?

 

He grinned. "I shall clean you up."

 

I leaned back a little as he bent over my stomach, holding my sides steady with his large, secure hands while licking all over my chest and around my belly button where I'd spilled most of my own seed. Too surprised to resist – he'd never done such a thing before! – I started to enjoy the new treatment, sighing softly when his wet tongue roamed over more sensitive areas; wincing a bit when he found ticklish spots. With some wonder, I felt myself become hard again. This was exquisite!

 

"Turn over", he said.

 

I hesitated. "Captain, do you–"

 

"C'mon, darling." He pushed me over so I was now bent facedown over the table, presenting my backside to him. Partly shocked, partly amazed – was he _really_ going to do _this?_ – I was grateful he could not see me blush like a bashful maiden.

 

Rarely ever had he looked at my most intimate areas that closely. He was kneeling before my rear end, and although I was not looking behind me I knew he was seeing it all, my abused backside, moist and slippery with his cum; my little hole stretched and sore, oozing even more. Blazes! I was blushing, praying he wouldn't notice my sudden shyness at being so thoroughly inspected.

 

I heard his voice from behind me, raspy and low. "You're beautiful, Jopson."

 

An embarrassed "mmh" was I all I managed in response. He spread my buttocks, pushing his face between them, and I gasped with incredulous amazement.

 

Then I vainly tried to suppress a moan as his tongue darted over me, licking the entire cleft all the way down to my balls. I hadn't shaved him this morning, so his stubble was rubbing over my sensitive skin simultaneously, adding to a sensation keener and more delectable than I'd ever have guessed.

 

"Hold still", he murmured, grabbing my backside more firmly, and proceeding to lick with more dedication and gentleness, paying special attention to the sore areas. He pushed his tongue against me, hard – just where his cock had been before! – and I sharply drew in breath.

 

This was one of the most indecent things I'd ever done!

 

And perhaps one of the most heavenly things as well. Still torn between shame and thrill I pushed out my rear end, pressing it even closer to his face to get more of that warm, wet, incredible tongue.

 

When he pushed my arsecheeks apart and back together in an attempt to squeeze out more thick, milky fluid, I felt my blush deepen and protested feebly. "Captain!"

 

"Almost done", he said, barely audible, then, a little louder, "Would you just hold still?" I tried to contain my trembling as he continued the cleanup. Imagine, the captain of a Royal Navy ship cleaning up his own mess!

 

Then the tongue was gone, only his hands remained, gently brushing over my rear end. I turned my head, trying to see what he was doing. He was inspecting his work, gazing thoughtfully, then sighed with a wide grin.

 

"Y'know what, lad?" he said. "You've got the finest arse in all of the Arctic."

 


	2. Crozier/Blanky - “I’d like to see you try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure I haven't seen any Crozier/Blanky fics yet. And that's a circumstance I cannot accept. So, this had to happen! Enjoy reading :D

**Crozier/Blanky**

 

**Prompt: “I’d like to see you try.”**

 

 

Captain Francis Crozier felt himself being pushed aggressively against the great cabin's wall. Rough wooden planks scraped his face. Thomas Blanky threw himself against him, and whispered into his ear, “Like this, Francis?“

 

Only when Blanky's arousal was unmistakably pressing against Francis' backside, and the ice master's hand reaching into his breeches, the captain managed a low, “Damn!“ All of a sudden, fueled by plenty of whiskey late at night in the great cabin, he was now making what was most likely the best mistake of his life. He laughed. “That's adorable, Tom!“

 

“Laugh now while you can“, Blanky chuckled, thrusting his pelvis harder against Crozier's posterior. “I shall make you cry.“

 

“I’d like to see you try”, Crozier said, pushing back against Blanky but the ice master did not let go. He was amazingly strong for being the shorter and slighter one; and now he was tugging at Crozier's trousers. _By Neptune's beard_ , that rascal was serious! With a ferocious push he managed to shove Blanky from him, and threw himself at his friend, intending to pin him down and show him who was captain.

 

Thomas Blanky seemed to have other plans. He pulled Crozier down onto the floor with him and successfully fought off Crozier's hands, eventually rolling over so that the captain was underneath him.

 

“Good God“, Crozier said, “horny now, aren't you?“ He grinned wildly at Blanky, head swimming with the effects of alcohol, and Blanky was at least as drunk as him, but still managed to pull down the captain's trousers, exposing him. Blanky acted quickly. Grabbing Crozier's cock and grinning impishly, he squeezed it. Crozier gasped, too taken by surprise and unable to think of doing anything for a moment.

 

Taking advantage of that instant, Blanky stroked him, roughly but efficiently, his eyes full of devilish joy of having won the upper hand – at least for now. He worked his captain's cock with amazing efficiency, and despite the whiskey Crozier was soon hard.

 

Blanky snickered. “Didn't know you still could get it up, old man!“

 

“Must I have you lashed?“ Crozier growled, trying to reach likewise for the front of Blanky's trousers; but with a swift shove Blanky threw him back down. Rolling around on the wooden planks they wrestled, grunting, limbs entangled in clumsy, embraces as each tried, vainly, to get a hold of the other's prick.

 

Crozier's rational mind had ceased to work. He attacked Blanky like a dog provoked by a bitch in heat; and the ice master was even _encouraging_ him, Jesus Christ! – that bastard rascal; he was grinding himself against Crozier, tearing at the captain's clothes, then pulling him into a forceful kiss.

 

Blanky's lips felt dry and chapped on Crozier's, and he tasted faintly of drink.

 

With a grunt he managed to push Blanky back facedown onto the floor, throwing himself atop the ice master's back, and for a moment his face was so close at Blanky's nape that he could smell the scent of sweat and tobacco, and he realized his friend was, once again, laughing. He pulled at Blanky's breeches, dragging them down, and suddenly paused.

 

“What's the matter, sir? Never shagged a man? Haha!“

 

“I'm going to do this, Thomas.“

 

“I dare you, old bugger.“

 

“I mean it, you sod.“

 

In the semidarkness of the cabin, Crozier could just make out the two surprisingly firm arse-cheeks with the dark valley dividing them, and that was all the guidance he needed. It took some aimless pushing and fumbling, Blanky lifting up his bottom toward him, but at last with a low groan he entered him. “Fuck”, Blanky gasped. _Francis, in the name of all that is holy, this is a mistake,_ but what use was stopping now? He thrust into him, deep and hard, felt Blanky struggling to push his bottom back against him, to match his rhythm. His vision momentarily threatened to fade into blackness from the overwhelming sensation of the tight heat all around him. But it was so wrong, oh so wrong, disgusting, dishonorable, deplorable …

 

Francis could not stop.

 

“Yeah“, Blanky moaned, breathing hard. “Oh yeah. Fuck …“

 

Francis thrust into him again, again, again. _For the love of God,_ that voice in his head cried, far away and faint, _Francis of Crozier, you are despicable, look at what you're doing...!_

 

Buggering his ice master? Oh, but that sodding trollop was asking for it, wasn't he!?

 

“Ah, c'mon, you...“ Blanky panted, “is that all you can do?“

 

Climax overtook Francis in the same moment as the sober realization that his relationship with Thomas Blanky would never again be the same. “Oh God“, he gasped as he felt it all drain from him _.  _ The next thing he knew he was slumped over Blanky, and there were tears running down his face; from the delight of the paroxysm, or horror at himself he did not know. Blanky gently pushed him over, onto the wooden planks of the floor, still breathing heavily from exhaustion, and then he was above Francis, wiping a tear from his cheek and smiling.

 

“Made you cry.”

 

 


	3. Fitzjames/Everyone - "Just this once"

**Fitzjames/Everyone**

 

**Prompt: “Just this once.”**

 

“ _We need to lift up their spirits“, had been Goodsir's suggestion. Everyone in the wardroom agreed. Nine months of dreary Arctic winter can defeat the sturdiest Jack Tar, even if the captains do their utmost to keep the men busy with work and the grog rations flowing every noon._

 

“ _It should be one of us officers to take care of their needs“, James Fitzjames interjected. “I'd like to volunteer.“_

 

_The others had looked at him not without concern. “But are you sure you're up to this, James?“ Le Vesconte asked. “It could get pretty rough.“_

 

“ _Oh, I've no doubt”, Sir John said, beaming with pride. He squeezed Fitzjames' hand. “Our darling James here is absolutely fearless. My dear chap, you are doing a great service to Queen and country.”_

 

“ _Thank you, sir.“ Fitzjames smiled, happy about Sir John's confidence in him._

 

“ _No need to worry“, Doctor Goodsir said. “I've got plenty of olive oil still in my cabinet. And Mr Fitzjames told me he is no stranger to these sports.“_

 

“ _Just this once.”_

 

_*_

 

Fitzjames' knees start to ache as he tries to hold himself up on all fours on the cold, wooden floor planks of the mess deck.

 

“My God, he's got a nice arse“, someone shouts.

 

“And smooth and round like a girl's“, another sailor comments (Mr Morfin, to judge from the raspy voice). Someone slaps James's buttocks. “Such sweet buns, I can't wait to shoot my juice all over them.“

 

James wants to shout _yes, I want to be covered in it,_ but he cannot; not with his mouth completely filled with the stoker's prick, and his only response is a choked moan.

 

He hears the slapping wet sounds of several men stroking themselves, unable to resist the call of the raging bull between their legs; their heaving breaths as they wait for their turn to pounce on him on this unique occasion.

 

The seaman in front of James pulls out of his mouth and takes aim; and a hot milky-white ribbon lands on James's face. The commander gasps in surprise, winces when another spurt lands on his eye. “Ohh, fuck“, he groans, unprepared for this type of assault. He lifts up one hand – which is very difficult, since both his arms hurt from supporting himself on all fours – to wipe the semen from his eye, and utters a curse when he feels it sting and burn.

 

“Better get used to it, sir“, someone sneers. “That's only the beginning!“ Boisterous laughter.

 

There's someone behind him, and with a soft  _splat_ , more seed lands on his back and bottom. 

 

“Let me turn around!“ James can't hold this position any more, his wrists are beginning to hurt and his knees are sore from scraping over the floor. He looks up at Franklin who watches it all from his armchair, and sees him smile. Thank goodness, Sir John seems happy with his performance. James hopes that he'll be not too sore later in case his captain decides he might want a taste, too.

 

The other men are also eager for a change; and James finds himself manhandled to lie on his back. Rough, calloused hands touch his stomach and roam over his sides, then a young sailor positions himself between James's legs. “Hold yourself open for me, sir“, he commands, and James complies. Holding his bent legs far back with one hand under each knee he gives him easy access, and the man guides his cock inside.

 

Even so, lying on his back, James can't relax his arms for long. Two Royal Marines kneel to his sides left and right, and order him to stroke their yards with his hands.

The other who is fucking him bends James's legs back even further, allowing for even deeper penetration.

 

“Damn“, James gasps when the big tool fills and stuffs him all the way, and hits an oversensitive area spot-on. He clasps his hands tighter around the erections he's holding, forgetting to fondle them. The stimulation is exquisite, almost unbearable, and his thighs and cock tremble and twitch with building-up tension.

 

James whimpers and moans, squirming, but the sailor holds his thighs in a vice-like grip, pounding hard into him. His face – isn't that Mr Wentzell, whose nails were such a terror – is right above James, showing a determined expression as he fucks his officer. He goes as far as getting hold of James' wrists and pushing away the other men, leaning forward and keeping James's arms pinned to the ground.

 

“Ohh“, James gasps, driven nearly mad by the friction of relentless rutting against that amazing spot inside him. Warm tingling shocks run through every little nerve in his body, and his balls start to feel hot and taut, on the brink of shooting. “Oh my God!“ He arches his back against Wentzell as his climax erupts. He hasn't even known that he's had so much of this pent-up energy still inside him! A peculiar tingle spreads through his body and even his face as two, three jets of cum spill onto his stomach.

 

Through the clouds of his orgasm James hears their whistles and cheers. To see him come is a reward for them; it confirms what they've known about him all the time: that he needs to be used like this, that he enjoys on being passed around in this way.

 

James isn't sure how many have fucked him altogether, how often they've shot their load into his arse and mouth and all over him, but judging from the amounts it seems that everyone has had his turn.

 

This should work wonders for the health and sanity of the ships' company. After all, it is a captain's duty to look out for his men's well-being.

 

  
  


 

 


	4. Crozier/Jopson - "What have you done?"

**Crozier/Jopson**

 

**Prompt: “What have you done?”**

 

Crozier had known it was merely a matter of time until Jopson asked for more.

 

They had been holding stealthy rendez-vous in the captain's bedcabin since January, 1846 – Crozier even remembered the exact date, because of course you do remember when a gorgeous young man, whose wholesomeness you don't deserve, happily and eagerly responds to your misdirected affections in a spur of the moment. After Crozier was able to convince himself that Jopson sincerely reciprocated his desires, he'd been seeking and receiving his steward's embrace on a regular basis. And Jopson was tireless. He would work Crozier's prick with his mouth and hands, sometimes in a quick, stolen moment when dressing him in the morning; at other times in a drawn-out lovemaking session afforded by the privacy of late hours.

 

But they had never gone beyond that line defined in the Articles of War; a crossing of which would make them both criminals, and if they would not be hanged for it their navy careers would be forfeit. Both Crozier and Jopson knew that. But they also knew that the vast majority of buggery offenses went unreported, if not undiscovered. So it should not have surprised the captain when Jopson brought it up.

 

“I wish you'd do it to me, sir.”

 

Crozier almost dropped his cup of morning tea, but quickly collected his wits. “Jopson”, he said, not without a tone of sternness, “you know I'd love nothing more. But ...”

 

“But what? I want to be a wife to you, sir … I want you to make me your own.”

 

Although used to Jopson's shameless demands, Crozier felt hot blood rise to his cheeks. That filthy mouth would never cease to amaze him. If he were a bolder and less honorable man, he might ravish Jopson right there and then … Instead, he tried to focus on his tea. “Well, it is not as easy as you think, lad … And I don't want to hurt you.”

 

“You needn't worry about that, sir.”

 

Crozier looked at him suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

 

Jopson turned to one of the drawers in the cabin's wall-cupboards, rummaging through it, until he produced a little glass bottle with a cork stopper and handed it to his captain.

For a moment Crozier struggled to comprehend its Latin label but Jopson replied before he could ask. “It's olive oil, sir.”

 

“Whatever for!?”

 

“It's … er, a lubricant, sir. Dr Goodsir was kind enough to furnish me with it from his medicine cabinet.”

 

“But … how on earth – _Dr Goodsir!!?_ ”

 

“Why, yes, I asked him what would be best to – you know, ease the penetration, and he gave me this.”

 

“ _You didn't!_ ”

 

“He actually had some advice for me – he said –“

 

“Jopson, _what have you done!?_ ”Crozier threw his hands into the air, almost sending the little bottle flying across the room.

 

“Oh but – Captain, just listen, please …”

 

Crozier took a deep breath. That lad would be the death of him, the literal _death_ , if not the cause of his soon-to-be snow white hair!

 

“Dr Goodsir is very knowledgeable on those matters”, Jopson explained. “And very helpful, too – he told me that, when you're about to stick your yard into me –“

 

“Good God”, Crozier groaned softly, more to himself than to Jopson.

 

“... then I should tense my – I think _anus_ was the medical term he used, I think it means arsehole – tense it, you know? Then relax it just in the moment as you're entering me, and then you must do so with determination, sir.”

 

Crozier stared at him.

 

“And, of course, we should practice using fingers only at first, he said. Especially since a large member like yours would bring a greater risk of injury, if I'm not properly prepared, sir.” Jopson's cheeks had acquired a healthy shade of pink, but otherwise he was his usual matter-of-fact cheerful self, which added to Crozier's disbelief in what he had just heard.

 

“Jopson … did you tell _Mr Goodsir_ … !? That I have a big …!?”

 

Jopson would not be interrupted. “Mr Goodsir stressed this point, sir, and he also said to take it slowly. He knows so from experience, having been both the active and passive part –“

 

“ _I don't want to know!!!_ ” Crozier waved a hand hastily in front of himself. That silenced the young man standing in front of him, and for a moment no one spoke.

 

He sighed. “That's quite enough, thank you, Jopson.” He studied the little bottle of oil in his hand, then looked back at him. “All right. We can give it a try.”

 


	5. Jopson/Hickey - "Rot in hell"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you think that this pairing is an abomination that should be killed with fire and then drowned in a deep lake? Actually I'm inclined to think so, too – but you should still read on, because this story has a twist that you might like. A very satisfying twist :)

**Jopson/Hickey**

 

**Prompt: "Rot in hell."**

 

As planned, Cornelius Hickey caught him in a moment alone.

 

Thomas Jopson, the captain's darling lapdog, was searching for something in the drawers of the stewards' cabin, when he turned around. Upon seeing the caulker's mate in the cabin's doorframe, he frowned. "Looking for Mr Gibson?"

 

"In fact" – Hickey drew the curtain closed – "it's you I came to see, Jopson."

 

The steward stood to face him, regarding him with an apprehensive look. Hickey hadn't had much opportunity before to take in the view of this exceptionally handsome young man, so he savoured the moment, letting his gaze linger on Jopson's pretty eyes, and imagining the well-built figure beneath that uniform. No wonder Captain Crozier had chosen him! Hickey couldn't suppress a knowing smile.

 

"How can I help you?" Jopson tried to be polite but his tone betrayed that he had no desire to speak to him any more than necessary.

 

"You see, I made a most interesting observation ... possibly concerning you."

 

Jopson crossed his arms, and his frown appeared to deepen. But he let Hickey speak, which was the most important thing.

 

"So I was allowing myself into the great cabin last Thursday night, to ascertain the state of the caulking I'd done on the seat of ease the day before. And I couldn't help but notice something."

 

Oh, what a joy it was to watch Jopson's face! Hickey wondered how long it would take for him to realize what he was about to tell. If he didn't have that pretty boy's full attention by now, he would have it by the next sentence.

Hickey lowered his voice to an almost conspirative tone. "It was then that I heard a most strange sound from the captain's bedcabin, Mr Jopson."

 

Inwardly triumphing that he now had Jopson's rapt attention and enjoying to see his eyes widening, Hickey continued. "At first I thought I was imagining it. But then I approached the bedcabin door and what I heard could not be mistaken."

 

There it was, the inevitable look of panic on Jopson's face, that expression people get when they've been found out. Hickey grinned. Jopson stared at him, lips pressed tightly together, but he stayed silent, obviously waiting for Hickey to say how much he really knew. Encouraged, Hickey went on. "I know what it sounds like, my dear chap, when someone is being  _ fucked.  _ That obscene smacking sound of skin on skin? Biting down on a pillow to suppress a moan? That heavy breathing?" He cocked his head, observing Jopson's reaction to both the accusation and the explicit language.

 

When the steward spoke, his voice trembled. "You lie."

 

"How can I lie about what I've clearly heard? The only thing I don't know for sure is _who_ was doing the fucking. But since it was the captain's cabin it could only have been Mr Crozier to be using it – and I think we all know that there's only one person our captain would be fucking."

 

Hickey relished Jopson's barely concealed anger. Of course he would be enraged, that virtuous pretty lad who worked so hard to keep up his honest reputation. Now that his dirty little secret had been found out, he was no longer the clean, incorruptible one of them. And that pleased and excited Hickey to no end.

 

Most color had drained from Jopson's usually so healthy looking cheeks. Finally he uttered a low, "Rot in hell."

 

Hickey's grin widened. He'd never seen Jopson like this – in fact, he doubted that  _ anyone _ had ever seen him like this. Thomas Jopson, the immaculate image of virtue and discretion, a disciplined and honorable Jack Tar through and through, always in control of himself and his emotions. Until now. Hickey had him exactly where he wanted him. "Now, now", he purred amicably, patting Jopson's upper arm as if comforting a friend, and enjoying him flinch under the unexpected touch. "I don't judge you, Jopson. Not at all! In fact, I'm rather partial to male company myself."

 

"What do you want!?" Jopson hissed.

 

" _ What?! _ " Hickey drew out this wonderful moment, acting utterly surprised. "Oh dear! What – do you think I'm trying to  _ blackmail  _ you?" He paused for effect. "Why, Jopson, what do you take me for!? I'm a man of honour!"

 

The other man's eyes narrowed. He had balled his hands into fists in an effort to restrain himself. "Obviously."

 

"Oh no, no." Hickey waved a hand, dismissing that ridiculous notion. "I'm  _ not  _ trying to blackmail you, good heavens! I'd never dare to threaten the captain's favourite. I may be a horny bastard, Mr Jopson, but I'm not daft. I see you more as a ... well, personal challenge."

 

"Huh?"

 

Hickey brought his face closer to Jopson's, and whispered "I just told you I prefer male company as well."

 

For all the experience Jopson must have had with his captain, he was innocently slow to grasp Hickey's meaning. But finally, the steward's eyebrows went up, and his lovely mouth relaxed, breaking into the beginning of a smile.

He leaned forward so that he was even closer to the other. "So _that's_ what you want, Mr Hickey? You want me to bend you over that bunk, and give it to you good?" 

 

If the sensation of Jopson's breath on his ear hadn't given Hickey a pleasant shudder and a cockstand before, those words now did. But Hickey took great pride in his self-control, and struggled to not let his excitement show too clearly. "Well, I'm usually more of an active player", he purred, presenting him with the sweetest smile he could manage. "But for you, I'm happy to make an exception." Hickey congratulated himself, secretly triumphing. He had uncovered that goody-two-shoes' perverted side, and how much _fun_ he would get out of it, oh yeah! He'd gladly bend over to get a good thorough fucking out of that oh-so-prim and proper lad! If Captain Crozier, that drunken old sod, only _knew!_

 

"Fine, Mr Hickey. Then I shall do that." Jopson's smirk broke into a wide grin, and too late, Hickey realized that something was not right.

 

With a swift, determined movement Jopson grabbed him by the collar, and bent him facedown over the edge of the bunk bed. Hickey felt a forceful hand pressing down between his shoulder blades to keep him there, while another hit his bottom with a deafening  _ thwack. _

 

" _ Ow! _ " The great surprise made Hickey forget himself for an instant. He squirmed under Jopson's grip, realizing his big mistake, but the steward was stronger than him and followed with another hard slap, and another, and another ...

 

_ Damn!  _ Hickey had foregone his under-drawers this day, so as to be able to dress and undress for a rendez-vous more quickly, and his trousers alone were no match for that bastard's dedicated hand – it hurt, hurt like hell!

 

_ Slap!  _ Hickey winced, gasped. Jopson did not pause, he struck the smaller man's bottom again, and again, with a fierceness no one would,  _ could  _ have expected from this soft-spoken, gentle lad. Hickey would not stoop so low as to scream  _ stop,  _ but  _ goddamn it, _ this was brutal.

 

_Slap! Whack!_

 

He fought against the hand holding him down, but to no avail – Jopson was in power, and he seemed to put all he had into those bloody wallops.

 

_Thwack!_

 

"Oh God", Hickey groaned against the duvet. There were a good many perversions he enjoyed, but pain was not one of them. Jopson, on the other hand, was clearly having a lot more fun.  _ That fucking bastard! _ "Fuck you", he muttered between two particularly stinging smacks, flinching at every strike, "fuck you..." Even if Jopson heard it, he could not possibly hit him harder still. 

 

When Jopson was finally done, he pulled a shaking Hickey back on his feet and regarded him with a look that almost stung Hickey's pride as much as the walloping had done.

 

"What!?" Hickey hissed, angry even at himself because he couldn't prevent his eyes fill up with tears of humiliation. His abused bottom burned like hellfire.

 

"I only made good on my promise, Mr Hickey. Now get out." Jopson's tone was strict and commanding, but there was a smile of utter satisfaction on his face.

 

As Hickey drew open the curtain to leave the cabin, he turned around one last time to spit Jopson's previous words back at him. "Rot in hell."

 

 

 


	6. Franklin/Fitzjames - “I knew this was a bad idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I went there. If "Sir John in a sexual situation" isn't your cup of English Breakfast, better get out of here now.
> 
> Also, it's too fucking hot right now where I am. Too hot for anything, really. And it's been going on for too long.  
> I've forgotten how cold feels, so writing our favorite boys in the Arctic is like writing science fiction.

**Franklin/Fitzjames**

 

**Prompt: “I knew this was a bad idea.”**

 

It was now or never.

 

James Fitzjames leaned forward slightly, to his captain and commander who sat to his left, and put a trembling hand onto his thigh. He was sure he'd read all the signals correctly – Franklin might act like a monk during the day, all sermons on self-discipline and God's glory – but at the end of said day, he'd have needs like any other man and no wife here to take care of him. No, here onboard HMS _Erebus_ in the world's most godforsaken place, it would have to be Commander Fitzjames to see to his beloved captain. He was determined to prove his own boldness, make Sir John proud, and serve the Empire. And Sir John had a special place in his heart for his third in command – why else would he constantly praise him and seek his company, even now in the privacy of his cabin in the middle of the night?

 

Fitzjames looked at him, feeling himself under surprised scrutiny. Was the fabric really that warm under his hand, or was that his own sweaty palm?

 

“What are you doing, James?”

 

Fitzjames withdrew his hand so rapidly as if he'd touched a hot stove. Looking down, he stammered, “Beg your forgiveness, sir … I thought …”

 

“You thought what?”

 

“Nothing … I knew this was a bad idea.”

 

He gathered his courage to look at Sir John again, and to his wonder, the captain seemed amused. “Oh, James!” He chuckled, and moved his chair further from the table but closer to Fitzjames who sat across its corner. “My dear James. I thought you'd never dare.”

 

Fitzjames blinked, not sure what to make of this answer. Had he been right, after all? “Sir?”

 

Now it was Franklin who leaned forward, and he clasped Fitzjames' hand into his. “Well, yes, my dear chap, I'd hoped you'd offer your captain this little favour. It would hardly be proper if I were to ask it of you, would it?”

 

“Sir”, Fitzjames responded breathlessly, “you may ask anything of me!”

 

If Sir John was in any way nervous he must be taking pains to hide it. He smiled at Fitzjames, like a generous and amicable father to a son who'd pleased him, then squeezed his knee, and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “Come here.”

 

Fitzjames swallowed hard. He looked around the cabin as if to ascertain that they were indeed alone, which of course was completely unnecessary. Then he dropped to his knees, right between his captain's spread thighs.

 

Overcome with a long dormant but now awakening hunger for closeness, he shoved his face in Franklin's lap, and put his arms around that ample waist as if clinging to him for dear life. Sir John's stout figure might earn him respect from some men and make him a butt of jokes to others, but to Fitzjames, in this coveted moment, it was a haven of comfort – warm, soft and protecting. He inhaled the rustic scent of wool, pushed his nose into the deep valley of Sir John's groin between his stomach and thighs; felt him stroke his head; and when he looked up Sir John's eyes were regarding him with tender longing. His hand brushed over Fitzjames' cheek, stopping under his chin.

 

“Do you truly want this, James?”

 

“Yes”, Fitzjames whispered. “Yes, Daddy – sir, I mean, sir.”

 

Franklin smiled and said no more. Without further ado, he unbuttoned his trousers and drawers, then let Fitzjames' nimble fingers assist him in getting them out of the way. As his girth did not exactly facilitate access to his privates he had to lean far back in the seat and let Fitzjames take over.

 

Placing his hands to both sides of Sir John's hips Fitzjames brought his face closer to his groin. The scent of musk made him pause for a moment. How _real_ this was! He had not had another man's cock in his mouth before – yet here he was now, servicing his beloved captain, Navy, Empire. He moved his lips across the warm length of his captain's manhood, tasting salt and musk, and then taking it into his mouth, his forehead bumping softly into Sir John's protruding belly.

 

As he heard an appreciative sound from him, Fitzjames' courage grew; and he grasped his captain's still flaccid cock at the base with one hand, using the other hand to hold onto his waist. Starting to suck, he could only guess how to go about this, but soon he noticed how effective it was. Sir John was growing hard in Fitzjames' mouth and hand, encouraging him further.

 

Whatever inhibitions might have been left in Fitzjames' mind disappeared. It was amazing! He felt the tender, hot skin of Sir John's now wonderfully hard cock, smelled and tasted the very own essence of his desire's object, and heard his own low but obscene sucking sounds. He, too, was now excited and erect, and with one hand he let go of Sir John's cock to touch his own.

 

“Good boy.”

 

Sir John's words had the effect of making Fitzjames' own erection twitch and he moaned against the velvety rigid shaft in his mouth. He would do anything, anything to please his beloved Sir John, the heart and soul of this ship, the figurehead of their company, his _home._

 

“So good”, Sir John muttered. He kept his hand on Fitzjames' head, caressing the commander's brunette waves.

 

Fitzjames moved his head up and down slowly, feeling the weight of the hand on his head, wondering if Sir John would use more force. He could do it right now, thrust it further inside and make him gag, and the idea made Fitzjames both nervous and aroused. Dear God, his captain could use him now in every way imaginable. But Sir John was a honourable man; he would not go any further.

 

He focused on sucking harder, sensed Franklin's palm pressing him down more firmly, heard his breathing increase to the point that he was almost panting.

“I'm going to come”, Sir John said.

 

The expectation was almost too much, and Fitzjames let go of the now glistening wet cock for a short pause to collect more saliva, but at once Sir John gently pushed him back onto it. “Continue”, he demanded, voice low and hoarse.

 

And Fitzjames did what he was told. His jaw was starting to ache and his own erection even more so, and he wondered if Sir John saw it.

 

The air was warm and stifling, the smell of sex intoxicating. Fitzjames licked and sucked, and soon the signs became clear – the telltale twitching in his mouth, and he was thrilled to the point of panic at what would happen. There was no way out. Sir John held his head rigidly in place.

 

The first jet of seed hit the back of Fitzjames' throat, hot and salty and forced him to cough; but full and stuffed as he was he managed only a gagging sound. Alarmed by the sheer potency of the shot he tried to pull his head back but could not. Another load filled his mouth, and it took him a second before he remembered to swallow.

 

Some was leaking out, dropping from his lips when Sir John finally let go and withdrew from him. Both were panting, and Fitzjames coughed again. His heartbeat raced, wild and excited, and a peculiar thrill and calmness overtook him at the same time. He had gotten what he wanted - better yet, Sir John had given it to him like a precious gift, and Fitzjames had taken all he could.

 

It was not enough. It would never be enough. “Sir John”, he panted, “do anything you want with me.”

 

He'd have Sir John fill him up with his precious seed over and over again, and Fitzjames would carry it around with him like a badge, a Navy medal.

 

“Shht”, Sir John whispered. “Go to sleep.”

 

“But...” Fitzjames realized how whiny his voice sounded. He was still painfully aroused, and clasped one hand around his erection.

 

Sir John caressed Fitzjames' thigh, and then gave it a light slap. “Go to sleep.” A short pause followed and Fitzjames realized that he had no choice but to obey.

 


End file.
